Pain in the Ass
by jibber59
Summary: ATF: Doubt, humiliation and trepidation. Just another moment in Ezra's early days with Team 7. Rating for some minor language and violence issues. Plus the usual amount of angst.
1. Chapter 1

Of all the goddamned bad luck. Again. Everything in place. All the "t"s crossed. All the "i"s dotted. Every single thing about the bust was perfect – apparently a little too perfect. A stupid siren – not even a police siren, but a damned ambulance, and it was enough to set off panic mode. One would have expected a bunch of murderous gun-runners to have a little more nerve. On the other hand, you had to assume their line of work would make anyone a tad paranoid.

All those thoughts ran through Chris Larabee's mind the instant the gunfire started. It was a bit concerning to him that he hoped the first shot hadn't been from their side of the law. There would be extensive paperwork connected to initiating a gun battle if that was the case. Just being involved in one was bad enough. He scanned the area, primarily looking to see where his team was and ensure himself they were secure, and secondly to spot the targets of the raid.

Vin Tanner was exactly where Chris expected to see him – high in the rafters, his sniper rifle at the ready. He'd already heard the distinctive sound of the weapon and felt comfortable assuming things were in control for at least that agent.

The voice coming through the earbud told him JD Dunne had followed instructions and stayed in the communication van. It was nice to have at least one person on the team who could be counted on to do as he was told. That could have something to do with the fact he was the junior member of the team, and still had the youthful desire to please his boss. More likely, it was because his foot was in a cast from a skiing accident, and he was counting his blessings that he had been allowed to participate in this operation at all.

"Shit! Four of the bastards are headed for the back exit!" JD clearly needed to be reminded about protocol and yelling when on the mikes. Cameras had been set up in the warehouse when it was confirmed as the location for the buy. There weren't as many as Chris would have liked, but at least if gave them a bit of an edge.

"Buck, Josiah. Do what you can to cut them off. Nathan, have you got eyes on Ezra?"

Jackson responded immediately. "No. Lost him when this hit the fan. He was moving toward your side of the building, but that's still a lot of territory."

Chris cursed as he spotted his man on the floor, head and shoulders visible sticking out from the aisle of stacked crates. His sense of dread dissipated considerably as he saw Ezra lift a hand to his face, moaning softly. He moved over and squatted next to him, cautiously laying a hand on his head. "Standish, can you hear me?"

"Yes Mr. Larabee, and as such would appreciate it if you could see fit to lower the decibels of your impending rant several levels." His head ached and he felt a sluggishness and nausea he could attribute only to the concussion that would undoubtedly be diagnosed. He had no idea why that would make him ache so badly. Everything was foggy at the moment. He could only assume he had fallen much harder than he realised when he was knocked into the containers. Something must have hit him from behind – another miscreant no doubt – and the impact had knocked him senseless.

Turning his man's head slightly, which resulted in another moan, Chris could see the small gash on his forehead. It was bleeding nicely, but headwounds had a tendency to do that. He glanced at the offset wooden palates beside them and drew his own conclusion.

"Must have hit your head on one of these flats sticking out."

"I cannot say my memory is all that precise on what occurred." He shut his eyes, wincing slightly against the light that flooded in when the door behind Chris opened again. Larabee turned quickly in reaction but calmed on seeing Buck and JD enter.

"All accounted for, except Barstow and his lieutenant."

Ezra moaned softly hearing the news, resting his head on his arms. Damn. The one man they had been after, and he somehow had slipped away in the confusion. Ezra didn't have to see Larabee's face to know the anger that would be there. It would have been so nice if just once the final scene of a case had gone according to script. That was not to be. In the four months he had been on Team 7, very little had gone as he hoped.

When the fragmented remains of his law enforcement career had been reluctantly shifted to the ATF he had dared to hope that his luck had changed. The new team he had been assigned to had a reputation for unconventional behaviour that suited his style perfectly. They also had a reputation for being above reproach, and that was diametrically opposed to his own status. Accusations of corruption, laziness, immorality and just basic dishonesty had followed him almost from the day he signed up with his former employer – the FBI. His family background and associated history of skirting the law had become common knowledge quickly, and while those were the traits that initially made him an asset, they quickly turned into major liabilities as fewer and fewer agents were willing to work with him. He had foolishly believed that this time things might be different. It hadn't taken long for him to realize he was dreaming yet again.

Trust was something that needed to be earned, and he came in with too much baggage to allow that to happen. He could tolerate the sideways looks, the whispers, the conversations that ended when he came into a room. He was used to them. The concern was that these came from his new teammates. JD seemed to be open to him at first, but when it quickly became apparent that Buck didn't feel the same way that thin bond of trust snapped. There was far too much hero worship between the young agent and he honorary big brother for JD to take the newcomer's side on the matter. Josiah seemed to want to trust him but couldn't bring himself to do so. Undoubtedly the profiler had studied the case file and determined with ease how effortlessly Ezra could manipulate others. It was a conclusion that automatically made the undercover agent untrustworthy.

Nathan had never for a moment given him the benefit of the doubt. Whether it was his own moral code, or simply an instinctive understanding of human nature Ezra couldn't decide. What he did know is that he was most likely never going to win the normally gentle and compassionate man over to his side.

The closest he had come to connecting with any of them had been Vin Tanner. A fellow lone wolf, solitary by nature and by circumstance. Tanner alone understood the damage that could be done to a man by having false allegations made against him. Unlike Ezra, he had been given the opportunity to prove his innocence, and with the support of the others on the team had moved past the incident. For a short time Ezra had felt a kinship with the sharpshooter and dared to believe it was a two way street. But the bond had failed to take. Perhaps he reminded his fellow agent of the ordeal of the false accusations, or perhaps it was merely that having been through the ordeal Vin was unwilling to risk association with someone who was similarly tainted.

That left only Chris Larabee. Ezra had yet to come to a conclusion on why the man would even consider adding him to the team. He couldn't imagine it was pressure from above. No one with authority would force the top team in the ATF to sully their reputation in such a fashion. No matter how good an undercover agent he was (and let's face it – he was the best out there), he wasn't worth the risk. But for reasons that surpassed his understanding, he was placed on the team. The only answer he could divine was that Larabee was a masochist, with enough of a sadistic streak added to disperse the punishment to his team.

Realizing he had let his mind wander, he forced himself back to the issue at hand. It was hard to keep any concentration. His head hurt, and his left hip was beginning to bother him as well. He must have landed badly when he went down.

"Vin and Josiah are searching the area, along with the back-up team, but so far we got nothing." Buck looked at the agent on the ground. A glance at Chris quickly allayed any concerns. No way would he have looked that calm if any of his men had been badly hurt. "Uh, Ezra – you know you're bleeding there?"

"Yes Mr. Wilmington. I am aware of that fact, and of the related discomfort."

Biting his lip to hold back a comment about Ezra's less verbose than normal response, Buck turned to Chris. "Ambulance?"

The responding nod was the answer he expected, so he ignored the reply from the patient. "No, I do not require any such conveyance. A moment to collect my thoughts and I assure you I will be more than capable of dealing with this abrasion without the requirement for assistance."

He sincerely hoped that sounded convincing. He wanted nothing more than to be left on his own for a few minutes to regroup and prepare for what was bound to be an in-depth debriefing from Larabee, Judge Travis and the other high-ranking officials who were going to be less than thrilled to discover he was responsible for allowing Barstow to evade capture. He mentally began packing his bags, wondering where he would turn to next for employment.

"Shut up Standish. Ambulance is protocol. I realize you always figure the rules don't apply to you –"

"I would hazard a wager that your entire team takes that stance." Ezra interrupted, knowing he was wasting his breath.

"Some rules you break, some you don't."

"I see. If you would be so kind as to provide me with the handbook outlining the difference, I would be more than pleased to commit it to memory."

Chris sighed and repeated his earlier comment. "Shut up Standish."

Any retort was cut off as Vin, Josiah, Nathan all joined, with JD limping in behind. Nathan squatted next to Ezra for a moment, checking out the head wound, then stood.

"That's gotta hurt some."

Vin cursed softly. "We lost him Chris. Barstow just disappeared, along with Calavera." He looked down and spoke to Ezra. "Thought you had your eye on the bastard. What happened?"

It hurt to even think about trying to piece the last few moments together in his mind. Vin was right; he had been closest to their target when the chaos erupted. Memories of what happened after that danced just out of his reach.

He shifted position to answer and tried to bite back a sharp gasp of pain with only marginal success. Nathan was far too experienced with his team's tendency to deny they'd been hurt to not see through this.

"You hurt anywhere else?"

The last thing he needed was the attention such an admission would bring. The fact that he heard Buck placing a call for an ambulance was bad enough, without encouraging their healer to get involved in the matter. Before he could answer, Vin stepped around to check him over. There was a totally undignified snort when he saw the blood stain on Ezra's pants.

"Damn Ezra – you've been shot in the ass!"

Nathan moved closer immediately, kneeling next to him. "Somebody get me a cloth or something."

JD stripped off his light jacket, passing it over. Nathan took it without looking up. "OK Ez, stay still. I'm gonna check and see how bad this is."

"You most certainly are not." Ezra tried to swat him away. "The medics can address any concerns when they arrive."

The distant sound of an ambulance siren gave Ezra hope that this portion of the ordeal would soon be over. Despite he protests he could feel Nathan's hand on his ass, probing gently around the wound. _Please, just let me die now._ Not only did he not get his wish, but a moment later he heard the distinctive tearing of fabric.

"What to you think you are doing?" It was difficult to muster much dignity in the situation, but that wasn't going to stop Ezra from making the effort.

"Relax. I'm just cutting the fabric to check things out. I promise I won't peak at anything else." Nathan looked up at the others and gave a quick nod they all recognized from experience. The agent would be fine. In this case, embarrassed, but fine.

"What's the matter Ezra?" Buck was trying not to laugh and failing badly. "Ain't like there you've got anything to hide from us, is it?"

"Bet he's got a tattoo that he don't want us knowing about." JD added, his own voice clearly indicating he was trying to fight off his own amusement.

The soft groan from the ground had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with crushing mortification. It wasn't enough he had failed to earn the respect of these men, but now he had offered up yet another subject for them to mock. He tried to pull away, not even thinking about the fact he had no where to go. He could hear the paramedics had arrived and said a silent thank you to the universe. At least now the team would leave, having better things to do.

"Ezra, stop fighting and let Nathan check you out." Josiah's tone was the first sound he'd heard that didn't seem to be intended to demean him. Maybe at least one of them was genuinely concerned. "It's not as if we're going to make you the butt of any jokes." Ah, so much for that theory.

"OK guys, we got this." Casting a dirty look at the jokers, the medic knelt next to his patient before offering him an encouraging smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Peachy!" Fatigue and humiliation had wiped out any civility he had left.

"I can guess." He checked the head wound first, concern crossing his face. He wasn't liking the lack of focus in Ezra's eyes, or the slight slurring he'd noticed in even the single spoken word. He looked at the men standing around, smirks evident on the faces. These were the man's friends? "Guys, you want to back off and give us a bit of room here."

The team moved away a few steps, but not far. "Don't you worry none about Barstow." Vin called over. "We'll get to the bottom of this!"

"What's your name agent?"

"Is this an effort to determine I am coherent, because I can assure you I am."

And no doubt fully aware of everything being said to him. Idiots. "No, it's so that I can call you something a little friendlier than agent. I'm Johnny, and you are…?"

"Standish." He paused for a second. "Ezra." He conceded to the effort at easing his situation. "I suppose under the circumstances we should be on a first name basis."

Johnny chuckled lightly. "Well, it's good to see your sense of humour wasn't badly wounded. I'm gonna do my best not to hurt you, but I need to check on the wound. My partner is bringing over the stretcher and we'll have you on your way to the hospital before you know it." He could feel Ezra relax ever so slightly and hated the fact his examination would probably change that.

Sure enough, there was a soft groan and spasm as Ezra tried to pull away from the pain. "Try to stay still if you can. We'll give you something for the pain as soon as I can check this out."

"Listen to the man Ezra." Chris called over. "Don't make an ass of yourself."

"Yeah Pard, just sit tight!"

Johnny turned and glared at them. "I would have assumed you would have somewhere else you should be right now."

JD grinned at him. "Nah, we're just bumming around."

"Nothing wrong with easing the tension by cracking a few jokes." Buck added.

"Please, ignore them. I am accustomed to their demonstration of support and camaraderie. That is what friends are for, is it not?"

With friends like that, Johnny was beginning to wonder who had been responsible for shooting the man. He put his feelings aside as his partner arrived. "Ezra, meet Kevin. Kevin – Ezra."

"Hey Ezra. We're gonna get you onto the gurney here and you'll be at the hospital before you know it."

"Your partner as so informed me – with almost the identical words. Is this a well rehearsed act?" Johnny smiled, relieved by Ezra's awareness of what was going on around him.

"We've just been together for too long. You know what that's like."

Ezra didn't realize he sighed, or that he spoke aloud. "No, I'm afraid I don't."

The two medics made eye contact and didn't need to say a word. Once the ambulance arrived they gently lifted his stretcher to the gurney, not even thinking about asking the others for help. He was quickly checked again, then wheeled away.

Chris followed the men out, watching as Ezra was loaded in. Kevin hopped into the driver's seat as Johnny started to climb into the back of the vehicle. He turned when he saw Chris step up.

"Just where do you think you're going?"

"With him."

Johnny shook his head. "Is he under arrest?"

That wasn't the answer he expected. "Of course not."

"Then you don't ride with him." Johnny reached to pull the door closed, but Chris grabbed onto it, staring at the medic. He was surprised and a bit put off when he saw it was having no effect.

"Only family can be permitted to ride with a patient, and clearly you and your men don't qualify." Johnny yanked the door free and slammed it shut. There was nothing Chris could do but watch it pull away, trying to figure out what the man's problem was.

He walked back slowly to where the others were waiting. Something didn't make sense here, and in all of the confusion, he hadn't taken the time to try to figure out what that might have been.

"OK guys. Let's break this down. What the hell happened here?"

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

_tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

It was several hours until the 6 men showed up at the ER, asking for an update on Agent Ezra Standish. Most of the staff was surprised by that. It wasn't the first time one of the members of the fabled ATF Team 7 had ended up in ER, but as far as anyone could recall, it was the first time one of them had been there alone for that long. It took almost half an hour for the doctor who had worked on him to become available to talk to Larabee and the others.

"Your man has been moved to a room upstairs. The bullet was extracted with only a minimally invasive surgery needed, but he was quite heavily sedated for the procedure. He will likely be out of it for the night."

"So you're saying we can't talk to him?" Chris's voice was low enough to be quite intimidating and left the clear impression that they had a little more that talking in mind. Nevertheless, the veteran doctor knew where his priorities were.

"You may look in on him if you like. You have about 30 minutes until visiting hours are over." They moved toward the elevator and were unexpectedly cut off by the doctor. "He has been through an ordeal and needs to rest. That means you will not wake him. If you do anything to upset my patient gentlemen, I will have security remove you." He refused to move until he got a terse nod from Larabee. Once the men were out of sight, he reached for the internal call system, giving the nurses on the 8th floor a warning of what was coming their way.

Hospital beds were not his favorite place to sleep – not even in the top 10. But this stay was worse than the others. The sedatives he'd been given didn't seem to be doing much for him, and comfort was beyond elusive. He hated sleeping on his stomach. It was unnatural and annoying and just plain painful. He didn't know what to do with his arms, and whichever way he turned his head seemed to bother his neck. The bruise on the side of his head finally made that decision for him, and he settled his head facing away from the door. That also violated all of his instincts, but he couldn't abide the pressure of anything else. He had just managed to work himself into a position that could almost pass for comfortable when he heard the commotion and closed his eyes, settling down in the bed as much as was possible. He really was not in the frame of mind to tolerate any more of the so called humour that he anticipated was on the agenda.

"Standish? You awake?"

"That your definition of quiet Chris? If so, I think you might be a few decibels too high." Josiah admonished the team leader. They all wanted to talk to Ezra about the conclusions they had come to at the warehouse but getting themselves kicked out of the hospital wasn't going to help anyone.

Ezra hadn't moved during the exchange. Nathan moved closer, looking at the chart hanging from the end of the bed.

"With what they gave him, he's pretty out of it Chris. Don't think you'd get a coherent answer out of him even if you managed to wake him up." Ezra kept the grin contained. Hopefully that meant they'd be moving on quickly.

"Might get coherent, but likely not honest." Buck offered.

Oh shit. That wasn't promising.

"You don't know that Buck." JD's support was tentative at best, but at least there was someone willing to offer what might be nothing more than a token defence, but nevertheless, a defence.

Buck hated to be the one to shatter the optimistic outlook the kid had, but facts were facts. "We've looked at this mess seven ways from Sunday JD. You give me some other explanation on how Barstow got away."

"And why Standish got himself shot in the ass. That only happens if he's leaving the building." Chris's anger simmered just barely below the surface.

"Face it – he was running away. Again. We took the risk to our reputation and he threw it back in our faces." The disgust in Nathan's voice was evident.

Ezra was glad he wasn't wired up to any monitors as there was no way he could control his reactions. Externally, he hadn't moved. He wasn't sure he could have if he'd wanted to. Fear paralyzed him. He didn't believe for a moment these men would hurt him. It simply wasn't their style. Integrity and ethical standards had an annoying tendency of interfering with the more basic human impulses. Besides, Ezra was used to violence. Far too much of his life had been spent cheating death, dodging from one dangerous confrontation to the next, coming from both sides of what was deemed as legally and morally acceptable. A physical beating he could handle. But what he was hearing now, what he knew was coming as a result of it all, broke him in ways he didn't imagine were possible.

_Your own stupid fault, _he chastised himself_. Being foolish enough to allow a moment of hope that you might actually have found a place you belonged. People with whom you belonged. Congratulations Standish – you conned the greatest cynic you know. Yourself. _

"You going to have him arrested Chris?" Vin felt the betrayal as strongly as any of them did. Maybe even more. He had actually found himself starting to like the elegant southerner. He'd seen past the image to the loner underneath, and that was where they had a bond. Both with histories they chose not to share but were determined to overcome. It looked like only one of them had succeeded. Now, despite the deceit and disloyalty, he found himself hoping Chris was going to spare the man that indignity. There were too many people behind bars who would relish the sight of a former agent locked in with him. He doubted Ezra would survive his first week.

On the other hand, the way he felt there was little Chris would enjoy more than watching a prison cell door slam shut with Ezra on the other side of it. But he also had to concede that right now there was no irrefutable evidence to confirm what his gut was telling him. And there was a niggling sensation that something still wasn't adding up right. It should all be easy enough to remedy. As for what would come next – well that would be decided later.

"For now we go back to the office and review everything. When this comes down, I don't want there to be any questions or doubts."

The men turned, with Vin taking one last look back at the bed. He had the feeling there was a change there. It might well have been his imagination working overtime, but he thought things looked a bit different.

"Ezra? You awake?" Getting no response, he followed the others out.

It was difficult, but Ezra forced himself to try to calm down. They were wrong. They must be wrong. Dear God, he hoped they were wrong. He desperately wished his memory would clear. Parts of what happened were coming back to him. Yes, he'd been following Barstow out of the building, but he couldn't figure out why. The obvious answer was to arrest him, but that wasn't his job in this case. Keeping his cover as intact as possible was primary, in the unlikely event it was needed again. He supposed he could have been following him to report to the others on the bastards' location, but why didn't he say anything to clue the others in on that. He hadn't been wired. That would have been too risky. But he knew the building was, and someone would have picked up on any warning he offered. Something must have stopped him from communicating with them, but he was at a loss to remember what that was. Maybe not enough time? Did something happen to change his priorities? There had to be a legitimate explanation, because the alternative was too disturbing to consider.

All of the past accusations came rushing back to mind. Those he had no trouble remembering – more's the pity. He had never taken a dime from anyone in the years since he'd left the family 'business' and joined the straight side of the law. Hell, he'd never even taken a cup of coffee, fearing it would be seen as the first step on the slippery slide. He'd had his moments of bending the rules, but never that one. Consorting with the enemy on a case was one thing. Switching sides was another, and a line he was sure he hadn't crossed. He just wished his gut would agree with him on that.

He took several deep breaths, hoping it would calm him enough that he could look at things more rationally. It didn't work. Anxiety and panic were building. Being recruited from the FBI to the ATF and Team Seven was really the only chance he might have at character redemption. These six men who he had hade been foolish enough to begin to see as more than colleagues were now turning on him. And they wouldn't be doing that without a good reason.

They would be back. In the morning, in the light of day, they would be back. If he was lucky (not something he'd experienced a great deal recently) they would ask only for his badge as they handed over what would be a very small number of personal items from the office. Internal affairs would likely have more to say about his departure. Once they were in the picture any hope he had of a second (third? fourth? twentieth? – he'd lost count) chance was done.

He sighed quietly, grateful for a second time for the absence of monitors. It would make his plan to slip out of the hospital so much simpler. He wasn't running. He didn't have the emotional or physical energy for that. They would have no trouble finding him at home tomorrow. But at least this way, when he was confronted it would be in the privacy of his own space.

He leaned back into the bed. It was too quiet now. Too great a likelihood he would be seen or heard. Early morning when the shift change was happening and the morning disorder was ongoing, he would make his way home.

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

The drive back to the office was giving Chris time to cool off and to think things through. Mulling it over in his mind and creating as many scenarios as one man could he still couldn't find an explanation that satisfied him.

Yes, Ezra was last seen heading toward the exit, following Barstow. But that didn't have to mean he was planning on leaving with the man. More likely just following him out. That was what he wanted to believe. But why? He wasn't supposed to make the arrest. Maybe trying to stall him? Or maybe there was something missing, something he hadn't been able to tell the team about before the bust went down.

That idea sounded promising until it came time to figure out why Ezra ended up shot. Who did it? He was damned sure it wasn't one of his team. Aside from the fact none of them had reason to, at least at the time, they also didn't know where Ezra was when the shooting started. If his cover hadn't been blown with Barstow, then none of the suspects had a reason to shoot him. Ballistics results would help, but for the moment Chris could only conclude that it had been one of the ATF agents from another team. Did they leap to the conclusion that the agent was running out? It wasn't as if his questionable history was a secret in the agency, but it hadn't seemed to be causing too many problems. At least none that Ezra had brought to his attention.

That made him stop and think. How likely was it that Standish would say anything if there had been issues? It was far more likely that he would merely assume he wouldn't be believed, and even if he was, what would be the point. Something else for Chris to add to the list of questions to ask when they got back to the hospital.

And what had happened to Calavera? Bad enough Barstow had slipped through but loosing two suspects was just embarrassing. Barstow may have been the brains, but Calavera was a stone cold killer. For that reason having him go missing had the potential to be an even bigger problem.

Pulling into his reserved parking spot, Chris could see that Buck's truck was already here, which meant JD and Nathan were upstairs now too. JD had probably started reviewing the video from the scene before the others had even started making the coffee. He imagined Vin was close behind with Josiah. Chris closed the car door with a little more force than was actually needed, but not enough to rattle the windows this time. They were going to be there until they came up with some kind of working explanation on this.

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

Pacing the halls didn't solve anything, but it was how Vin usually preferred to do his thinking. The solitude worked for him, and right now, that was critical to what was left of his sanity. The noise from the office where the others were debating possibilities was too much for him to take right now. How JD could sit calmly scrolling through videos while the others squabbled at full volume was a mystery he couldn't begin to suss out.

They had all taken turns defending, and then condemning Ezra. Each new theory brought another round of accusations and efforts to support or refute his guilt in all of this.

Vin wanted to feel bad for doubting the man. He liked Ezra. He was surprised by that fact, since there seemed on the surface to be so little to like. Arrogant, egotistical, pompous and smug. Those were the first impressions that he put out there. And the second, third and fourth impressions as well. It took Vin a while to begin to wonder if in truth, those actions shouldn't be taken at face value. He was hiding something, and it had nothing to do with accusations or scandals. There was a vulnerable side to Standish, and the effort to keep that hidden seemed to take an inordinate amount of planning and energy.

So now, when it looked like things had gone sour in a big way, Vin was angrier than he should have been. Just when he thought he was beginning to understand Ezra, the southerner had betrayed him – them – by his actions. Or had he?

The ringing of his cell phone stopped his contemplations. Glancing up at the wall clock as he retrieved the phone he had to fight back a small surge of panic. No one calls at 3 a.m. with good news. Seeing the call was from the crime lab calmed his nerves a bit.

"Guess we aren't the only ones working late. What have you got for us Katie?" He stood quietly as the technician answered his question, then thanked her has he hung up, more puzzled than he'd been before.

He arrived back in the office in time to here something unusual – Chris questioning JD's tech skills.

"What do you mean you can't get a better angle than that? I thought you could make these things to whatever you told them to."

"I can Chris, but I can't create video from a camera that isn't there. We didn't have the angle we need to see what made him turn around. All we know is something did."

Before any comments could be made, Josiah hung up from the call he was on. "Well, because things weren't confusing enough, we have another part for the puzzle. Team 9 finished their sweep of the building. Calavera is dead."

Chris spun around. "What?"

"Found his body up in the rafters."

They all turned to look at Vin. "I take it you didn't see him from where you were?"

"Hell Buck, I was too busy trying to follow everyone on the ground. Never got a sense anyone else was at my vantage point."

"Dead how? Shot?"

"Yup. Nobody taking credit yet. He was at the back, probably watching the door to make sure his boss got out."

At least that answered one question for Chris. "So he shot Ezra."

"Nope." They turned at Vin's voice. "Ballistic result is in on the bullet that clipped Ezra. It matches a slug from Barstow's gun. It's on file from an earlier case and the used it for comparison to speed things up. And before you asked, they double checked."

For the next several minutes there was silence as they all tried to put together the latest revelations. Nothing was making any sense. In frustration, Buck turned back to JD.

"There has to be another video somewhere that shows what happened."

"Buck, I can't make it any clearer. There was no damned camera back there. Closest we come to it is a side angle on Chris."

"Show me." Larabee leaned over the younger agents shoulder watching the clip. "Is there anyway to filter some of the sound?"

"Nothing that makes this any easier to figure."

Nathan was at his own computer now, pulling up a schematic of the warehouse. "Josiah, where did they find Calavera?"

"Sounds like he was round about here from what they reported." He pointed to a spot on the east side, near the back.

They all stared at the screen, trying to recreate what might have happened. Vin's face paled as he started to figure things out.

"Shit. He had a bead on you Chris. If we've got this right, Calavera would have had a clear shot at your back, and your vest wouldn't have stopped those bullets."

"Ezra heard him." JD's voice was soft. "That's what made him turn. He heard, or maybe saw something, and he turned. I'll put my next paycheque on the bullet in Calavera came from Ezra's gun."

Chris's voice was level and without emotion as he came to the simple conclusion of what happened.

"Turned his back on Barstow to be able to take out the guy about to kill me. When Barstow saw it, he shot Ezra." No one spoke. "And," he continued, "I'll offer the same stakes as JD did. I will bet you Ezra knew he was leaving himself open."

"He would have had to know." Buck agreed. "If our angles are right, he left himself open to the door to be able to get his shot off."

Chris was glad he hadn't eaten that night, because the way his stomach was rolling he wouldn't have been able to keep from throwing up. "The stupid son of a bitch let himself get shot to save my hide, and I was ready to walk in there and accuse him of running out – or worse."

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

_tbc_


	3. Chapter 3

"If you are looking for your associate you'll have to try somewhere else." The head nurse looked up from her station as team invaded the floor. "He was gone when we went to check on him this morning. Should have known that despite the polished manners he was going to be every bit as much trouble as the rest of you are when you're in here."

Ignoring the commentary, Chris reined in his anger. No point in misdirecting it once again. "Any guess as to when he left?"

"Was there during nightly rounds and gone by 7:30. My guess is he slipped out in the distraction of the 6 am shift change."

"Never known Ezra to get up that early." JD grinned. "Must have remembered something really important."

Vin thought back on the impression he'd had last night and figured he knew the real reason. "I don't think he was asleep when we were here."

The implications of that were obvious. "Heard what we were stupid enough to say out loud." Josiah's voice went lower with his soft growl.

"And he ran rather than fighting back? That doesn't sound right."

Vin shook his head. "Not for you Buck, but I would guess Ezra just might be too tired of fighting losing battles to feel up to doing it again. Especially when he's been shot and has a concussion."

"Not to mention the fact he's fighting his own team on this one – the folks who are supposed to have his back."

Chris put a finer point on Nathan's comment. "And he'd be fighting the man he got shot saving. That's wrong any way you look at it."

Patience not being one of Buck's strong suits he was quickly tiring of just standing around. "OK, he's been gone about 2 hours. Where?"

"If he left town it could be anywhere." JD was already mentally reviewing the options, legal and otherwise, he had for tracking the missing man.

"No, I doubt he'd go that far. I don't believe his aim is to escape, but merely to accept his fate as much as possible on his own terms. My money has him headed home. Probably figures that is exactly where we will go looking for him."

Knowing he shared Ezra's dislike of confinement, Vin had another theory. "Not disagreeing Josiah, but if your right, and if it was me, I'd be out taking in what I figured were my last moments of freedom. He'll head home eventually, but I doubt he went straight there."

There was only one viable option in Chris's book. "In which case he could be anywhere. I vote we just wait for him at his place. If we work hard enough at it, maybe we can look like a welcoming party instead of a lynch mob."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

Breakfast sat like a lead weight in Ezra's stomach. He was glad he'd opted for something simple, but even that was too much with the state he was in. Try though he might, he saw no point in avoiding the inevitable. A quick glance at the dash in the cab confirmed what his frighteningly accurate internal clock was telling him. Almost 9:00. The team was most certainly waiting for him by now. They weren't stupid enough to be wasting time and energy searching. Why bother when his return was so predictable.

He scanned the visitor parking lot as the cab pulled up to the front of his building. Two cars instantly caught his attention. "Hail, hail. The gang's all here." He mumbled to himself, stalling by fumbling for his wallet for a moment. It wasn't all an act. He still felt just a bit off, and sitting had been more than a little uncomfortable. When he realized the driver was looking at him with that 'why are you still here' face, Ezra reluctantly reached for the handle. He'd gone over countless dialogues in his head in the last few hours. Confrontation, avoidance, denial, acquiescence. None of them ended well for him, but then none of them could. If he'd been able to fill in a few of the blanks on those last moments of the bust it might help, but the detailed memories tormented him by remaining just out of reach.

He stretched himself out slowly as he stood watching the cab slip away without delay. It was useless to try to pretend he didn't see the others coming. A herd of stampeding elephants would have been less obvious than the approach of his team. Well, he supposed, not really his team anymore.

He squinted against the glare of the morning sun, his head still pounding. Turning slightly to look away from the stark light he saw the glint of reflection from across the street as the window of a car was lowered. It was equal parts of instinct and fatalistic expectations that screamed at him what that signified. That same instinct should have had him ducking for cover, but instead he ran forward shouting a warning. His leg buckled under him at the same moment he tackled Chris, who had been directly between him and the shooter. He heard shots ring out for just a split second before his head hit the ground and all awareness vanished.

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

If he'd sat down and prepared a list of ways he expected Ezra would react to his arrival, there wasn't an icicle's chance in hell that charging toward him screaming would have been on the list. Chris stopped mid-stride, struck dumb by what he saw. In the same second that he registered there must be danger he felt Ezra slam into him and heard the shots being fired. He had neither the time nor the opportunity to respond as he landed hard on the sidewalk. The gunfire quickly changed from a single weapon to multiple and the exchange was over in mere seconds.

Turning his head, he could see Buck and JD were running to the vehicle to secure the shooter, or more likely confirm his death. He looked around again as Nathan was the first to be at his side. "You hit?" He shook his head. "Winded, but not shot."

Nathan's attention switched over before the sentence was finished. "Damn. Josiah, call 911!"

Chris scramble to his knees and was able to get his first look at the unconscious form next to him. "No! Not again. He shot?"

"Can't tell yet." Nathan reached out and gently rolled Ezra toward him, bracing his head and neck in the process. Vin was suddenly there helping and the two men carefully laid him on his back.

"Ezra, can you hear me? It's Vin. Can you hear me?" He looked over to the team's medic. "Don't see him bleeding anywhere – that's good."

Nathan nodded but the frown didn't leave his face. "He's out though."

Without speaking, Vin held his hand out for the others to see the blood that was coating his fingers. Nathan cautiously checked Ezra's head, finding the abraded patch quickly.

"I don't think he was shot, but he likely made hard contact with the cement." The team stood around, feeling totally useless as they watched for even a hint of consciousness. Buck and JD joined them, nodding the confirmation that the threat had been neutralized.

"It was Barstow." Buck told them needlessly. Who else would it have been?

The men fidgeted, watching as Nathan repeatedly checked Ezra vitals while Vin encouraged the unconscious man to stay with them.

"Where the hell are the medics?" Chris found his voice again. He barely got the words out as the sound of a siren in the distance grew nearer. A moment later the vehicle rolled to a stop.

The paramedic ran from his truck, not quite believing the sight in front of him. A second day in a row of having to deal with this bunch was not his idea of a good day at work. His dismay strengthened when he saw who was lying on the ground.

"What the hell is he doing out of hospital?" Johnny knelt next to Ezra, scanning him for injuries and reaching to check his pulse.

"Breathing and pulse seem good." Nathan spoke, ignoring the question. "He wasn't shot this time that we can tell, but he has another head injury. So far he's been unresponsive."

Johnny looked up, hearing a totally different tone in the voice than had been there the day before. Most other members of the team were silent, watching every move anxiously. The long haired agent hadn't let go of his grip on Ezra's hand or stopped talking to him, and the team leader looked shell-shocked. Setting aside his confusion, he focused instead on his patient. Kevin arrived with the supplies, and the two men worked with the efficiency of an experienced team. Johnny allowed a smile to flit over his face when Ezra eyes fluttered lightly. There was a soft moan, but he didn't wake up.

"That's a good sign?" Chris looked at the paramedic in a way that demanded a response.

"It looks to be. We'll know better at the hospital. You guys want to clear the way." The ambulance had arrived and Ezra was quickly loaded in. Johnny turned back to see Chris standing silently, staring after them. "You coming?"

The words startled Chris. After the previous day, it was the last thing he thought he'd hear.

"I thought…"

"That was then – this is now. Are you coming or not?"

The rest of the team watched mutely as the ambulance pulled away.

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

The ride seemed to be taking forever. Chris watched the paramedic tending to Ezra, trying to find reassurance in the calm and controlled approach that was being used. If he wasn't frantic, then maybe there was nothing to be worried about.

"Why the change in policy?"

Johnny looked up. "Why the change in attitude?"

There was no response as Chris tried to understand the question.

"Yesterday this man - your friend - had been concussed and shot, and you guys were so busy cracking wise you couldn't give a damn about how he was doing. Today, you can hardly speak for worrying about him. So, what happened?"

Leaning back against the wall of the vehicle, Chris closed his eyes for a moment before returning the stare he was getting.

"It's kind of who we are. Once we knew he was going to be ok, we relaxed. Hard case, bad bust – a lot of tension. Being wiseasses is our way of letting it all go."

"Don't think appreciated your form of letting off steam."

Looking back on the moment, the reality became clearer. "No, probably not. We didn't figure on the fact he's still pretty new to us, and not fully tuned in on how we handle things."

"And just what is he doing out of the hospital already?"

"That one I can't answer. But I intend to find out."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

"You need to settle down. The doctor's said Ezra's going to be fine." Josiah really didn't think his words were going to make the least bit of difference, but he had to make the effort. Watching Chris pace the waiting room for close to four hours was driving everyone to the brink.

"Then why isn't he awake?"

Nathan had lost count of how many times he had already explained this, but he went ahead anyway. "The scans are all showing no severe damage and his vitals are good. You have to keep in mind, he shouldn't have been out of the hospital when this happened, so it's going to take him some time for his body to let him wake up again."

"In other words," Buck added, "his body has more sense that he does."

Chris stopped his pacing and glowered at his friend. "You really think this is the best time to be making fun of him?"

"OK, that's enough." It took a lot to push Vin to snap, but this was doing it. "You're pissed off at yourself, and at Barstow, and at us and the world in general. Probably at Ezra too, though you won't admit that one. And it ain't going to change a damn thing. He is going to be alright, and when – not if – WHEN he wakes up, we are going to sort out whatever needs to be sorted out."

It sounded so logical put that way, but that didn't seem to help. Chris Larabee was not a man who took well to being wrong about things, especially as wrong as he'd been about all of this. Watching Ezra being wheeled into the emergency, and later into the room where he was now supposedly resting comfortably, Chris felt about as bad as he could remember feeling in quite a while. He wanted things fixed and he wasn't entirely sure they could be. And he hated having to wait to find out.

He took in a slow, deep breath. They were right – all of them. There wasn't anything they could do until Ezra decided to open his eyes. Even then, it would likely be a few hours till he was feeling up to dealing with all of this. There wasn't much point in all of them sitting here for the night. He was about to say exactly that when the waiting room doors opened.

"Your friend is starting to wake up." The nurse stepped over to block the door. She was going to insist on hazard pay the next time had to confront these men. "Dr. Tobin has given permission for you to be in the room, but only as long as you remain quiet and promise to let Mr. Standish continue to rest. It will be a while before he is alert enough to talk to any of you, and you are not to try to rush matters. Is that understood?"

The quiet "yes ma'am" responses were not what she had been expecting. When Vin added "we sure appreciate how patient you've been with all of us." she was left speechless. All she could do at that point was step aside and let them pass, watching as they silently made their way down the hall.

**M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7**

_tbc_


	4. Chapter 4

He had long ago stopped trying to test his condition by opening his eyes. Every effort to do so resulted in yet another wave of vertigo washing over him. Even with them closed he could feel the disorienting spin of the room. Sound was almost as bad as each footfall, each tick of the clock, echoed in his pounding skull. The only benefit he could think of to having this concussion was that it distracted him from the residual pain of the earlier bullet wound. Not completely, but enough to make it tolerable.

He didn't need to open his eyes to know what was happening in his room. He wasn't alone. Hadn't been for some time now. The others were making what was for them a miraculous effort to stay quiet. Conversation had been limited, and kept low, although Buck had needed to be reminded of that requirement a few times. It simply was not in the man's nature to be soft spoken unless a pretty woman and pillow talk were involved.

What he did hear had helped him piece together most of what had happened. His own memory of the misadventure remained cloudy, but it seems the team had come up with an explanation that he found both satisfying and surprising. He vaguely recalled following Barstow to keep an eye on him, but he still had no recollection of shooting Calavera or of saving anyone in the process. And the newest injury had been a mystery as well until he heard what JD had put together reviewing traffic and other surveillance cameras. It seemed that Barstow had been at the hospital, likely waiting for the chance to silence the man who would be a key witness against him. Since Ezra had been – to use Buck's word – moronic enough to slip out of the hospital on his own in the wee hours of the morning, the thug had his opportunity handed to him. Only the fact that Ezra had been either surrounded by people or in a vehicle had staved off the assassination attempt until it was at his own home. With Barstow now dead, the case was definitely wrapped up.

Which made Ezra wonder why the others didn't just head home and leave him to recuperate in peace and quiet. He supposed there was only one way to find out. Bracing himself for the unpleasant sensation that was about to happen, he opened his eyes slowly.

"Looks like Sleeping Beauty is back with us." Buck lowered his voice as the sentence ended, remembering only when he saw Ezra wince. "Sorry Hoss."

"Good thing you never considered a career as a care giver Buck. You'd likely kill your patients."

"Kill 'em with kindness kid. That's my style."

"Both of you shut up. How you feeling Ezra? Need anything?" Nathan was handing him a cup of water as he spoke, signalling his offer to raise the bed at the same time. Ezra gave the barest hint of a nod in response, hoping his brain would not rebel with the action. He held a hand up to let it be known when he was as vertical as he could handle.

"If my somewhat fractured recollections serve, the Barstow debacle can be considered a closed file?"

Chris shook his head with a vehemence that made Ezra cringe at the thought of what the same act would do to him. "No. I mean, yes, the case is resolved, but the matter itself isn't."

"It is truly the act of a sadistic individual to deliberately speak in a manner devised to confuse and obfuscate an issue."

Buck barked out a laugh then immediately apologized again. "Sorry Ez, but you've got to admit that hearing you complain about how someone speaks is just a little bit funny."

"Ironic would be the more precise term Mr. Wilmington, but I conceded to your intention."

"The point is," Chris sought to regain control of the discussion, "that there are a few things that need to be talked out, if you are feeling up to it."

He wasn't. The last thing he wanted right now was to be trapped here listening to the aspersions and reprimands that were coming his way. The very confrontation he had left the hospital to avoid was about to play out, and he could see no avenue for escape this time.

"No time like the present."

Chris nodded quickly. "OK. Let's get the big one out of the way first."

Ezra mentally braced himself to hear 'you're fired'.

"You saved my ass and ended up getting shot in yours. Then you pulled the same stunt again, damn near knocking yourself into a coma in the process. So both times there was obvious risk to your own hide - hell, your own life. I don't have your way with words – nobody I know does, and anyway, there's not much a man can say that measures up to that kind of action, so Thank You is the best I can come up with."

There was silence from the bed as Ezra stared in shock. He didn't even have the presence of mind to try to hide the reaction.

"You still don't remember?" Josiah asked quietly.

A small shake of his head sent Ezra into another spin and the others waited a moment for his eyes to stop whirling. When the room stopped moving, he spoke softly.

"I assume you are certain of your facts?"

"A lot more certain than when we came in here the first night spouting off a bunch of theories that we should have known made no sense." It was hard to see it, given how pale Ezra already was, but he did lose even more colour at Vin's words. "Yeah, I wondered if you'd heard us making fools of ourselves last night."

"What you need to understand Ezra is that sometimes that's just the way we work things out. We talk out all the theories, no matter how far out there they might be, until we find something that makes some kind of sense."

"The kid is right." Buck took over. "We didn't have the facts we needed, so we were spit-balling."

"And came to the conclusion that my reputation was merited."

Conversation stopped. Under any other circumstances Ezra would have taken no pleasure in the clear discomfort the men all felt at that moment, but he right now couldn't find it in himself to be all that charitable. "Tell me Mr. Larabee. Had it been one of the others, any of the others, would that same conclusion have been the one you settled on?"

"We didn't settle on it Ezra. We went back to the office and found the way to prove it wrong."

"That is my very point. For the others, there would have been no need to prove it wrong. You would have simply accepted that it was. Or, more likely, never had the possibility enter your minds."

He would have loved to be able to deny it. To tell Ezra that they all got the same treatment, but he knew not only that it wasn't true, but that the agent wouldn't believe him for a second.

"Not going to insult you by pretending you're wrong. Wish I could, but it would be a lie."

Ezra wasn't sure why he had pushed the matter. He heard exactly what he expected to, which was also the last thing he had wanted to. Now was not the time and this was not the place to deal with this. Handing in your resignation while in a hospital gown was about as undignified a concept as he could imagine.

"There is something else you need to know about us Ezra." JD spoke before anyone else could. "One thing that we are all pretty good at – mostly from experience. We learn from our mistakes. Now I'm not saying we never repeat them, cause let's face it, some of us are a bit brighter than the others, but we do learn." The simple sincerity of the young man was something the cynic in Ezra was totally unprepared for.

"And," Josiah added with a gravitas only he could pull off, "this was one hell of a mistake. Which makes it the kind of lesson that sticks with a man."

Buck spoke in a tone much quieter and more sincere than was his norm. "The kind of lesson you only need to learn once."

"What about it Ezra? You willing to give us the chance to learn?" Nathan waited for the answer, not quite able to make eye contact.

Ezra looked at them all, trying to decide if this was for real. He wasn't used to being on this side of the forgiveness issue. He had been asked to apologize more times in his life than he could remember, and as often as not for things he had never done. Not to say he was perfect. He was the first to acknowledge he was lightyears from that claim. But he was also totally unfamiliar with this position and found it far more unsettling than he had envisioned. The control he held now was a heavy weight and he knew the consequences of his next words would affect everyone in the room. He wanted to fit in, wanted to find a way to make this work. And for one of only a scant handful of times in he could recall, he had the impression the feeling was mutual.

Chris self-consciously cleared his throat. "Ezra? Are we forgiven or not?"

There seemed to be only one appropriate answer he could offer, and a slow grin appeared. "Well, I suppose this one time, I could be persuaded to turn the other cheek."

**M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7**

**The End (so to speak).**


End file.
